


Putty in My Hands

by Patchwork drabbles (PurplePatchwork)



Series: RusAme Drabbles [26]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Massage, Sensuality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4601829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurplePatchwork/pseuds/Patchwork%20drabbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alfred gives Ivan a much needed massage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Putty in My Hands

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarlightOnInk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightOnInk/gifts).



“Are you certain this will help?” Ivan asked, uneasily eyeing the table he had helped set up.

“Of course! I used to give Mattie massages all the time, he says my hands are divine!” Alfred chirruped in response. He expectantly patted the table, waiting for his boyfriend to lie down.

Ivan nervously folded and unfolded his hands – he would have been playing with his scarf, but Alfred had asked him to take it off for the best effect. The bandages remained however, hiding his scars and sensitive neck.

Ivan carefully lay down, relaxing only a tad when a towel was placed delicately over his lower regions. His shoulders were hunched up, hands secretly balled to fists. He wanted to trust Alfred, but… all those scars, battle wounds and evidence of his wrong-doings. He didn’t want the American to look at them and be disgusted, didn’t want the younger nation to start asking questions. He felt bare and naked in more than one sense, exposed.

Ivan let out a soft yelp when Alfred firmly placed oiled-up hands on his back. He flinched, squeezing his eyes shut and tensing further. Memories of whips and bruises and screaming filled his mind, making him shiver. Any second now, Alfred would falter in his gentle touches and start shooting those dreaded questions. Or worse, he really was young once more, standing in front of everyone who had wanted to conquer him, possess him, make him obey in the most horrible ways.

However, instead of the inevitable happening, Ivan could feel how Alfred’s hands started moving in slow, rhythmic strokes. Drawing languid yet firm circles over his shoulder blades, pushing the tension away from his spine and easing it out over the surface of his back. Those warm hands moving along his shoulders and back, it was far better than Ivan would have ever hoped.

After his shoulders were stretched and kneaded, Alfred slowly worked his way down Ivan’s spine, attacking knots with his thumbs and pushing them all apart. The lower he went, the more Ivan relaxed. He no longer worried about the ragged battlefield that was his back, nor about faces of his past. Only wonderful sensations were registered in his mind and nerves.

Before he could stop himself, the Russian started letting out soft hums and content sighs. The experience was simply too fulfilling for him to remain silent. Alfred didn’t comment on it at first, him merely minding his own business and thinking solely about the task at hand. The more stress he relieved though, the more vocal his usually quite mute lover became. Alfred began having a little trouble when the sighs started resembling pleasurable moans. By the time he reached the lowest parts of Ivan’s blower back, the ashen blond was stretching and arching against his hands, having become putty under Alfred’s expertise. He knew he could hear Ivan purr, like the giant Siberian kitty he truly was.

Alfred swallowed, and finally spoke up. “Ivan, babe, _please_. I’m trying to focus here.”

The taller nation stilled, as if startled by the sudden interruption of peace and quiet. Alfred’s breath caught when he looked up, following the line of muscles on a naked and deliciously pale back, up until Ivan’s turned face. Staring back at him were two immensely gorgeous violet eyes, wide and round, pupils like black holes tempting him in.

“What is wrong?” his client sighed, voice having gone dry and raspy. And oh, Alfred had to grasp the table now to keep himself in hand. Ivan truly had no idea what he was doing to him.

“You want me to finish or not?” he quickly asked, spitting the words out just a little too fast.

Ivan curled his back again, stretching – and Alfred’s grip became that much tighter – before plopping back down. He was clearly more relaxed than he ever had been, displayed in front of Alfred like a delicious gooey meal- no wait a wintry Adonis- NO, focus Alfred, focus-

Ivan smiled up at him, eyes hooded and smouldering. “I would like that very much.”

Alfred had absolutely no excuse for what came next. Not even the following morning, when both were so sore they needed another massage.


End file.
